


Revealing

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 18:24:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10471227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: Written in response to an ask about how Scully managed to read fanfic on stake-outs as revealed in a previous story of mine. This is dialogue only and you can read the companion pieces Tried and Tested on my page.





	

“Scully, do you want coffee?”

“Real coffee or the granules of dirt that someone puts into the old Nescafe jar at the refreshment station?”

“I was just going to the photocopier, so dirt I guess…”

“Fine. Double dirt please. And Mulder, can you collect my expenses reports? They should all be printed by now.”

“One double dirt with no cream or sugar. One doubly dirty great pile of expenses reports. What are you claiming for here, Scully? Every single pair of hose you’ve ripped in the line of duty, receipts for every lettuce leaf and carrot strip that comprise what you allegedly call lunch, Steristrips for all my boo-boos?”

“Mulder, printing out the report for all your boo-boos would take all year and the paper stock required would decimate the world’s remaining rain forests. This, on the other hand, is a month’s worth of standard X-Files expenses, and if you bothered to do any of your paperwork, Mulder, you would know that.”

“Scully, you know how much I love it when you dot all the Is and cross all those Ts for the team. Your manual dexterity is far superior to mine and I know how much you thrive on logic, rationalism and scientific fact. Expenses reports are nothing if not factual.”

“Really, Mulder? When was the last time you actually read one of these things? This one contains so much of your particular brand of ‘I Want to Believe’ dreaming that I’m pretty certain I could put your name to it and Skinner wouldn’t bat an eyelid.”

“Except that he knows I don’t write them and that would raise suspicions.”

“Well, thanks for the dirt and thanks for the non-input into this magical report where the unicorn accountants will stamp their approval with their rainbow hoofs and get you off the hook from your ridiculous claims by sprinkling fairy dust over the facts. Again. I’ll catch you later, Mulder.”

“Stake-out tonight, Scully. Don’t forget. Wrap up warm, bring your own thermos of real coffee and some quality reading.”

“By quality, I presume you mean something without pictures, Mulder.”

“Ouch, Scully. There’s another boo-boo to add to my collection.”

“So, what are you reading, Mulder?”

“Oh, just some stuff I printed out earlier. You know.”

“No, I don’t know. What stuff?”

“Nothing that would interest you.”

“No? Try me. We’ve got all night.”

“You first. You’ve been engrossed in your medical journal for ages now. Just how much fun can the ‘American Journal of Pathology’ really be? Or is December the Christmas special? Do you get extras like ‘World’s Most Bizarre Autopsies’ or Cause of Death word searches or…”

“Mulder, I’m reading about cutting edge research and technology. That’s pretty absorbing.”

“But you’ve been shifting around in your seat like whatever you’re reading is making you…”

“Making me what, Mulder?”

“Nothing.”

“You still haven’t told me what you’re reading. There doesn’t seem to be any naked skin on the cover, so that’s an improvement.”

“Sometimes, covered skin can be just as sexy, Scully. Don’t you think?”

“I haven’t really given it much thought, Mulder.”

“Because you’re totally engrossed in the latest article on cell injury and repair?”

“Have you been reading this journal too, Mulder?”

“I might subscribe…”

“You subscribe to the AJP?”

“You sound sceptical, Scully.”

“Would you believe me if I said I subscribed to Aliens Today?”

“There is no such journal, Scully. But there is an Aliens Tomorrow. I’ll sign you up if you’re serious. If it means one less quirked brow or roll of the eyes before we go on our next case, it might be worth the $29.95.”

“Last of the big spenders, Mulder. I’m touched. Anyway, there’s no sign of our suspect, yet. Trail mix?”

“Will nobody think of the guinea pigs? Our suspect is probably headed to the Bahamas as we speak. How did we land this gig, Scully?”

“I’d like to think that sometimes Skinner advocates for our mental wellbeing by provisioning cases that are actually restful, in a bizarre kind of way. Just sitting in a car, the two of us, talking, reading a little. Not getting abducted.”

“So it’s like one of those team-building exercises where we’re supposed to communicate, discuss the minutiae of our days, really find out stuff about each other. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Maybe. What do you want to know about me, Mulder? Some secret you think I’ve been holding back?

“Have you been holding back, Scully?”

“Have you?”

“I asked first. I was just wondering if being totally honest with each other would actually be beneficial to our partnership. Workwise, that is.”

“Workwise…I see. And by total honesty, you mean like some kind of truth or dare.”

“If you choose to see it that way. I guess.”

“Mulder, I am always honest with you.”

“Really?”

“Now who’s being sceptical? Yes, I am honest with you.”

“But you see, I’m not sure you’re being totally honest, Scully.”

“Truth or dare, Mulder. Just ask the damned question.”

“Are you really reading an article on cell injury?”

“Dare.”

“Ooh, Scully. I dare you to strip naked and run up and down the street three times.”

“Mulder, aside from the fact that if I do that three times I’m not going to get back to car, I don’t think that we should jeopardise our stake out on a dare like that.”

“So you’ve already reneged on your first dare. Truth, Scully?”

“Ask another question.”

“No. I want you to answer my first question truthfully. Are you reading about cell injury?”

“No, Mulder. I’m not.”

“And…”

“And, it’s my turn to ask you a question. Truth or dare?”

“Scully.”

“Mulder, are you reading Celebrity Skin?”  
“No.”

“Are you reading something pornographic?”

“Define pornography.”

“I think you know the answer to that better than I do, Mulder.”

“Scully, pornography is usually a selfish perspective – a male perspective. There is an element of distance, where the female, usually, is seen as an object rather than a person, as opposed to…”

“What?”

“Erotica, where the parties involved are willing, consensual and equally fulfilled by the activities.”

“Erotica.”

“Erotica is often seen as a more female oriented genre. It has a softer image than pornography. It seems more acceptable, almost more intellectual, cerebral.”

“Is that right?”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Scully.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I found your stories.”

“My what?”

“In amongst your expenses reports. Your erotic stories…”

“They’re not mine.”

“Scully, if there is an agent at the FBI who read ‘Alien’ fan-fiction I think I would have sat with him in the cafeteria on my first day here. Come on. I know it’s you. As I said, there’s no shame. Ripley is a great female character. Why wouldn’t you want to read about her, her adventures, her love life?”

“That’s not what it’s like…I…Mulder, I’m so…I don’t know what to say…I’m embarrassed.”

“Scully, you should know by now that there should be no secrets between us. None.”

“This is hardly a secret. This is just a…”

“A peccadillo?”

“You make it sound sordid, when you put it that way.”

“Scully, there is nothing sordid about sex.”

“Says the man with an obscene Triple X bill. I can’t believe I left that story in the copier. Supposing someone else had got hold of it. How humiliating.”

“Scully, please don’t feel embarrassed. I copied the story. I read it. It was well written, the narrative was strong, the characterisation was spot on.”

“Mulder, it was smut.”

“Yet it was still literary. That’s a skill.”

“It is one of the better ones I’ve read.”

“And how long have you been addicted?”

“It’s not an addiction! It’s a way to…relax. It sort of turns my brain off. Allows me to chill out, forget about the day, the case, the office politics, whatever.”

“I understand, Scully. More than you could ever know.”

“I guess some people drink, some people eat Doritos, some people inject heroin. I read fan fiction. I confess. Do I need the 12 step program?”  
“I get it, Scully. I really do.”

“But this is me, Mulder. This is the Ice Queen. Mrs Spooky. The professional sceptic. The spy in your ointment. I write the reports, I do the paperwork, I dot the Is, cross the Ts. I am not supposed to have feelings, or emotions, or to do the wrong thing. That’s you. I’m the one who follows the rules. I don’t print out erotic fiction in the office. I don’t read it on stake-outs. What? What’s this?”

“My confession.”

“Your what? I don’t understand. What is this, Mulder?”

“This is what I’ve been reading.”

“Mulder, this is fan fiction. I’ve read this one. It’s widely held…”

“To be the best of its kind in the fandom. I know. It’s great. I’ve read it multiple times. It kills me every single time.”  
“Are you teasing me?”

“No! I love this shit. It’s the perfect way to escape our work. I mean, I know you think I go home and watch porn or I go swing a baseball bat or shoot some hoops, but you’ll find that I’m more likely to be eye-deep in fan fiction – Alien, Star Trek, Star Wars – have you read the Leia/Han stories? You’d love them.”  
“Mulder…”

“I know. It’s weird, isn’t it? Me and you. Sharing the same guilty pleasure. Are you crying, Scully?”

“No. Yes.”

“Scully, do you have any other kinks?”

“Mulder.”

“I’m serious. You keep me guessing. I love that about you.”

“Well, I do know how to tie more than one hundred different types of knot. Courtesy of my dad. Does that thrill you?”

“Depends where you’re tying ‘em.”

“And I know how to say fuck you in about twenty different languages. Courtesy of my sister.”

“That might come in useful one day. Any more?”

“I seem to be doing all the revealing here, Mulder. You’re not playing fair.”

“I don’t have any special skills. I’m completely boring. You now know everything about me. Fan fiction and all.”

“Mulder, do you ever wonder where we’ll end up? I mean we can’t spend the rest of our lives reading fan fic on stake outs or hunting ghosts and ghoulies. What do you want? Where do you see yourself in five, ten, twenty years? Do you want the house with the picket fence and the 2.5 kids, do you want to retire and do the UFO talk circuit? Do you ever think about the future?”

“I do.”

“And?”

“Scully…I think that’s our suspect.”


End file.
